Bride, Bought and Paid For. HELEN BIANCHIN

a black cotton polo top accentuated her slender frame. Thin black leggings adorned her legs, and soft leather boots with killer heels added inches to her naturally petite height.

      The young woman standing before him was the antithesis of the rather naive innocent he remembered. Inherent strength emanated from her small frame, determination and a degree of defiance he reluctantly admired.

      It led him to speculate what she might offer in a vain attempt to save her father’s skin. A woman’s known asset…the use of her body?

      Something stirred deep within. A pleasing memory of innocent wonder and uninhibited delight, her generosity, the sweet fervour of her mouth. Genuine, not a calculated act.

      Heaven knew he’d become bored with his recent female companions and their predictable modus operandi. Practiced sycophants who used every known guise to attract his attention in a game as old as time.

      Romy Picard could prove an interesting diversion. He’d blocked off every avenue of contact available to her…except one. And made it extremely difficult, almost impossible for her to circumvent. Yet she hadn’t disappointed, and there was a part of him that applauded her persistence.

      Xavier made a split-second decision, lifted the interoffice phone, and issued his PA with instructions to accommodate Romy Picard until the meeting’s conclusion.

      During which his eyes never left her own, and she refused to look away. Instead, she merely inclined her head, then turned and exited the room.

      The cool, composed persona was a sham, one she maintained as she crossed to a comfortable leather chair and sank gracefully into its cushioned depths. Romy selected a magazine at random, studied the index, then chose an article and pretended interest in a stock-market graph.

      She should have experienced a mild sense of elation at having succeeded in gaining an audience with Xavier DeVasquez. Except there was only anxiety existent, and a feeling of dread.

      Ridiculous, she rationalized, when she’d dealt with rebellious young teens in a classroom of misfits and miscreants whose command of the English language comprised sassy belligerence in a deliberate attempt to diminish her authority. She’d achieved the unexpected, in a hard-won fight for the kind of mutual respect that promoted a degree of enthusiasm for learning. Because she cared enough to take the knocks in order to gain the end result.

      Whether she could expect to win any form of reprieve for her father was something else…but she had to try.

      Romy replaced the magazine and selected another, pretending interest in current electronic technology, when there was nothing further from her mind.

      How long before Xavier concluded the meeting?

      A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat. Five minutes—an hour…what difference did it make?

      Thirty minutes and counting, she perceived when four men exited the conference room and acknowledged the CEO’s PA before entering the corridor leading out to Reception.

      A phone beeped on the PA’s desk, and Romy quelled the sudden twist of nervous tension gripping her stomach as the PA uttered a few quiet words and stood to her feet.

      ‘Mr DeVasquez will see you now.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      OKAY, she could do this. After all, what was the worst that could happen?

      So why did each consecutive step towards the conference room feel as if she was walking to her doom?

      Get over it, she cautioned silently as the PA lightly rapped the door, then immediately opened it and announced Romy’s presence. Romy entered and heard the faint snick as the door closed behind her, and she unconsciously lifted her chin as she prepared to do battle with the man who’d condescended to allow her a few minutes of his time.

      Xavier DeVasquez stood at the far end of the conference room. His height and breadth of shoulder accentuated by fine tailoring as he appeared engrossed in the scene beyond the floor-to-ceiling plate glass.

      In profile, his facial features bore a chiselled look, the strong line of his jaw, sculptured cheekbones, and she felt a constriction in her throat as he turned towards her.

      Arresting, he emanated a compelling power that was almost primitive, and she held his gaze as eyes dark as sin speared her own.

      ‘You have five minutes.’ The soft drawl held a hint of purpose Romy chose to ignore as she retrieved an envelope from her bag and extended it towards him.

      ‘You’ll find a certified cheque attached to a detailed payment schedule for the balance my father owes.’ The cheque wiped out her life savings and tabled payments that would extend way into the future.

      His expression remained unchanged as he extracted the slim document and skimmed the amount of the cheque before perusing the legally assembled phrases. Each passing second seemed timeless as he read the words with unhurried ease, and the nerves in her stomach tightened into a painful ball when he tossed the document onto his desk.

      ‘The repayment schedule you present includes a proportion of your father’s estimated future earnings.’ His voice held a dangerous softness that lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. ‘No one will employ him in his former capacity given he’s been charged with fraud.’

      ‘They would, if you accept the repayment terms and drop all charges against him.’

      ‘Your loyalty is admirable, but severely misplaced.’

      The words held an accent-inflected drawl that did little to diminish their harshness, and her chin lifted fractionally.

      ‘There were extenuating circumstances.’

      He inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘Submitted in detail by your father’s legal team.’

      She regarded him steadily. ‘Have you no compassion? Does fifteen years of loyal service count for nothing?’

      ‘Had your father approached me and confided his difficulty in coping with crippling medical expenses, I could have made certain allowances. Instead, he chose to defraud, then compound it by racking up extensive gambling debts.’ His expression hardened and his eyes seared her own. ‘The DeVasquez Corporation offers strict but fair contracted terms of employment. The consequences of flouting those terms are clearly defined.’

      For a wild, unbidden moment she had a desperate need to pick up the nearest object and hurl it at him. Perhaps he sensed her intention, for one dark eyebrow slanted and his eyes became watchful. Such an action would be pure folly, and instead she drew in a deep breath in a need for calm.

      ‘Your rise and rise in the financial ranks is well tabled. Your methodology known to be mercilessly ruthless.’ She waited a beat, then offered a deliberately sweet smile. ‘Would your professional ethics bear intense scrutiny?’

      A deadly silence encroached the room…electric, heart-stopping. Except she refused to shift her gaze.

      ‘You choose to insult me?’ The words were deceptively mild, but only a fool would dismiss their lethal intent. There were corners cut, authority skirted, and a few early dealings that had just skimmed beneath the legal line, but he’d made generous recompense and his conscience was clear…on all counts.

      Romy experienced the strangest feeling: the floor tilted slightly beneath her feet. Crazy, when she was on a high floor of a concrete-and-steel building in downtown Melbourne!

      Reaction, she assured herself silently. Tension, and a few other emotions she determined not to explore as she marshalled strength of will.

      Xavier took a cellphone from his pocket, keyed in a few numbers, yet delayed activating the call as he regarded her with chilling intensity. ‘Do you really want to be escorted onto the street?’

      It was all Romy could do to control the sudden thumping of her heart, unaware its heavy beat was clearly visible in the pulse at the base of her throat as she held his